


Inconvenient Attachment

by ChiefFlamingo



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Adult Content, Angst, College, Drama, F/M, Fiction, Humour, Life - Freeform, Love, Nightclub, Romance, Stripper, University, club, femalereader, poledancing, ynstories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28889334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChiefFlamingo/pseuds/ChiefFlamingo
Relationships: Sal Bourdelle/YN
Kudos: 3





	Inconvenient Attachment

Your feet scuffed against the pavement at a rhythmic pace as you rushed towards the main entrance doors. It was your first semester at Crescentfall University and you were positively nervous... and a little bit late. The only other time you had been on campus was for the student orientation, and even then you hadn't spent much time actually wandering around to scope out where your classes would be.

You had enrolled in General Studies. For much of your High School life you had thought you knew what you wanted to do, but as adult life crept closer and closer, it became glaringly obvious that you weren't entirely sure what you wanted to go to school for. With the general pressures of society to get out there and do something, you had decided enrolling was a good first step. Besides, everyone wanted to move away from their home town and experience the good old college life, right?

You were pulled out of your thoughts as you finally reached the doors, slightly out of breath from rushing out of the dorms. Making your way through the sets of doors, you were forced to weave in and out of people who seemed to either be leisurely making their way to classes, waiting for their next classes to start or, like you, late. Occasionally bumping shoulders with passerby's, you made your way to the very side of the hall, looking down to your phone to double and triple check the room number for your first class. You weren't entirely sure why you had been enrolled in a criminology class, but you supposed it was general studies.

Turning to your right, you began to fight your way through the crowds, making your way along the congested hallways. The windows that made up much of the one wall made the hallway seem much more spacious than it was, though the throngs of people you were forced to push through and around did little to help. You perhaps only walked not even ten steps when a group of friends chit-chatting and looking at their phones blocked your way.

"Excuse me." You chimed into their conversation. You didn't want to be rude, but you really were in a hurry. Most professors were lenient on the first day, but you had an odd feeling that this Professor Mainsail fellow wasn't someone to tangle with.

"... and so then we- Oh... sorry." One of the girls in the middle of the group tore her eyes from her phone as you spoke up, quickly moving to the side to let you through. Pleased that the encounter went as easily as you could have hoped for, you muttered a small thanks and plowed your way through, continuing the speed walk towards the lecture hall.

As you neared, the crowds thinned out significantly, and as you checked once more that the number above the large double doors and the number on your phone matched, you approached the doors and pulled on the handle of the left one. Locked. Of course it was. In momentary panic, you stand there for what seemed to be a lengthy amount of time, when in reality it is only a second or two before trying to pull the right door. At the expense of some of your self-confidence, the right door opens almost silently save for a subtle click. You open the door as wide as possible to make sure both you and your backpack fit through the door without making much sound. At first glance, the hall was perhaps half filled, maybe forty to fifty students, and it was eerily quiet. Ninja-like, you make your way down the carpeted steps towards one of the first available seats, and thankfully almost no one noticed. Except for the man standing directly before the hall.

"It is the first day of the semester so I will let it slide, but please make note that if you ever show up this late again, you will be locked out of my class. You are here to learn, not waste everyone's time." The man that addressed you was strikingly handsome in an almost annoying way. He had dirty blonde hair that was slicked back neatly, and a smart looking dress pant and vest combo. In truth, he looked exactly like the sort of man who would be teaching something pretentious, and you figured he looked damned good doing it, though his words left a horrible taste in your mouth. You visibly shrank into yourself, electing to sink into the closest seat possible. Expecting a few snickers or jeers, you were surprised to hear none.

"Now, I hope we won't be rudely interrupted anymore." What an ass, you thought. "I won't torture you all with icebreakers, but I like to do these silly little crime riddles." Professor Mainsail adjusted his tie before leaning on his desk with both hands, staring across the crowd. Finally feeling secure in your spot, you took a chance to glance over the crowd. No one stuck out to you at first, though you did notice a surprising amount of people already taking notes. There was one guy who stood out a bit, he seemed like the tall dark and handsome type. He could probably be a model if he didn't look so horrifyingly angry. There were a few people you noticed who had their hoods up, and you were surprised that sort of thing was allowed in college. The professor moved again which brought your attention back to the front of the class.

"A newly wed couple flies to an out-of-country destination for their honeymoon. A few days later the husband returns alone. He claims that his wife had an accident and died a horrible death. The police promptly arrest him saying, 'Your travel agent just called us. You are under arrest for the murder of your wife.' How did the agent know it was murder?" Mainsail moved around the front of his desk, leaning to sit back on it with his arms crossed as his scrutinizing gaze seemed to scour the crowd for any eager takers.

You sat there in thought, thinking about it. There were really no obvious clues. How did the wife die? Did he push her off a cliff? But how would the travel agent know? As soon as you asked yourself the question, two hands shot up almost in unison. One belonged to the dude you were fairly certain was a model, and the other belonged to a figure sitting in the very front, cloaked in a black hoodie, completely covered in the garment. Almost as quickly as the hands went up, Mainsail shot an almost playful finger gun towards the figure in the hoodie. "Bourdelle. Go."

The figure sat up straight, no longer hunching over their notebook. After a few moments, they seemed to speak up, having collected their thoughts properly. "One-way ticket." The voice came out in a tired grumble, though you were surprised to find that you could hear them surprisingly well even as far as they were away from you.

"One-way ticket... what, Bourdelle? Extend, give me more, please, and take your damned hood off-- all of you take your hoods off." Mainsail went from giving this Bourdelle guy crap to giving almost every other hoodie wearer in the room the same glare. You pondered the name Bourdelle. Was that a first name? Maybe not, Professor Mainsail seemed like the sort of guy who called anyone he wasn't close with by their last name. Subtle curiosity got the better of you and you found yourself staring at the back of Bourdelle's head. It almost didn't register for you that they had removed their hood as the black of the hood was quickly replaced with hair that was equally as dark. You couldn't tell from this far away, but they seemed to have wavy parted hair that fell over the left side of their face in something of a large bang. Did people really wear such edgy hairstyles out still?

Bourdelle sat back in his chair, crossing his arms against his chest almost mimicking the professor. When he spoke next, it was not the same tired tone, but one that seemed to scream that he knew what he was talking about. "The husband made the mistake of only booking a one-way ticket for his wife." He didn't seem to extend much on his original statement, but the Professor seemed to be pleased enough with the answer.

"Good. A woman was horrified to find a fly in her tea. The waiter took her cup and went into the kitchen and returned with a fresh cup of tea. She shouted, 'You brought me the same cup of tea!' How did she know?" Almost as soon as the question was asked, the tall drink of water across the room from you that was STILL for some reason looking very disappointed immediately put his hand up, but was yet again ignored as the Professor looked elsewhere. You noticed this time that Bourdelle, who you expected to react with the same energy was simply... staring at the Professor, flip-flopping his pen between two fingers. "Tardy-one, quit stalking your classmates and give us an answer."

It took you a few moments of deafening silence to realize that it was you he was referring to, and the gears in your brain turned on high speed. "Uh, the fly was still... there?" It was a decent answer, and Mainsail hadn't exactly given you much time to think on it.

"Incorrect. Desmond, go." You were thankful you barely had time to wallow in the shame of getting an answer incorrect, and to top it off you got to figure out who the cute guy's name is. Actually, you weren't sure if it was a first or a last name, at this point you were just going to assume all the names stated at this point were last names. You were fairly impressed that someone like Mainsail knew all their names personally. Did he have those two and some others for other classes? Maybe he had them a year prior? You had no idea.

"She had already added sugar to her tea." Desmond's voice came out in an almost commanding way. He gave off the air of being quiet, yet sturdy personality-wise. Definitely not a push-over. Almost as soon as the answer was said, another celebratory hand sign was sent Desmond's way.

"Yes, now- let's move on to some more difficult scenarios..." You were fairly certain your brain would be pudding by the end of the class, and you were fairly certain by the looks on everyone's faces that most of them felt the same way.

\---

You were correct, your brain was mush. So much mush. You finally had the chance to take a break between Mainsail's class and your next class... with some guy named Professor Cruise? It was an English class, a class that was basically mandatory for everyone in college. You expected Shakespeare, that sort of stuff. What was up with the professors names, anyways? Mainsail? Cruise? Really? Was there going to be someone in school named Tom Morrow? Hah, that would be funny.

You slung your backpack over your shoulder making your way out of the lecture hall with tired steps. Your next class was in the same hall, so you didn't have to go far, and at least there was a coffee shop just outside the doors. There wasn't a doubt in your mind that it would be packed, but you needed something, ANYTHING to get you through this next class. You made your way passed a series of dividers that, as you expected, were already quite filled with people. You stood at the back of the line, roughly only a quarter ways through the lineup. You tried not to pay much attention to the person in front of you, but you did happen to notice he was rather tall. Six foot something? And his hair was... interesting. It was shaved and flopped to one side, just like that Bourdelle guy from earlier, only this dude had straight, bright red hair. The worst part was that it wasn't his height or hair that caught your attention, it was the fact that he kept reaching his arms around the person in front of him and sticking his hands in the front of their hoodie pocket, resulting in a stream of insults in a language you couldn't quite understand.

"Saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaal, I love youuuuu, buy me a coffeeee pleeeeassseeee." The red-headed man practically wailed, resulting in many strange stares and some giggles from people standing nearby. Personally, you did find it somewhat humorous, though you couldn't help but notice the person this man was harassing was the same Bourdelle fellow from earlier. Now that you were up close, you took a better look at him. He himself was somewhat tall, perhaps around six foot, it was hard to tell from here, especially when he was being jerked around by his lanky red-headed friend. He had light olive skin and, as you noticed earlier, black hair that seemed surprisingly soft, at least from a distance. You had the urge to pet it, but you had a feeling from the way he was bending his friend's arm across his shoulder in what seemed to be an attempt to dislocate it that you should keep your hands to yourself.

"Owowowowowowowow-- what is wrong with you?! Uncle- Jesus-" The dark haired man didn't let go at first, waiting for the sweet sound of the 'Uncle' to be said before releasing. He turned around to give his red-headed friend one final sock to the gut, muttering something under his breath... to which the red-head cackled like a movie villain. It was when he turned around that you were able to catch a glimpse of more of his features. Some of his face was covered by hair, but what wasn't covered by hair seemed surprisingly tired, like the poor guy hadn't slept properly in months. He had a silver eyebrow piercing on his right eyebrow that matched the two earrings that he wore on his right ear. All in all, he seemed like a rather decorated guy, and despite being on the more attractive end of the looks scale, he didn't seem all too impressive aside from his stereotypical bad boy look. That's what you thought, at least, until you paid closer attention to his eyes.

You weren't sure at first if they were contacts, but as you narrowed your own eyes to focus in on his, you quickly realized that either he was wearing very detailed contacts, or his eyes were in fact a dark shade of red. It might have been a trick of the lighting, making his brown eyes seem red, but you could swear that he had- "Oi, take a picture, it lasts longer."

You snapped out of your critical stupor, finally realizing that not only had the line begun to move, but both guys in front of you were staring directly back at you. "Uh- sorry, come again?" You hadn't quite caught what was said, if anything was said at all, and you could feel your cheeks growing warm with embarrassment. If only this could be one of those super romantic moments in books where you meet each others eyes and fall in love! But no, this was a cheap coffee shop line, and you were just caught ogling a stranger!

"I said... if you're so intent on gawking at me, take a picture, it'll last longer." It was only then that realized it was this Sal guy who was holding you with his vibrant gaze. You knew you had to walk forwards to keep up with the line, but there was something about his glare that seemed to hold you in place, much like a small rodent being inspected by a much larger feline. You opened your mouth to reply, hoping to give him some sort of witty comeback to shut him up, but nothing would escape your mouth as you wallowed in your shame, having been caught staring at a stranger.

"Sal, cut it out, you're going to give her rabies or something." The red-head hip-checked Sal, forcing the more aggressive seeming gentleman further ahead to continue the line, giving you a chance for reprieve. The red-head gestured ahead with a dramatic sway of his hand, ushering you forward. "After you, m'lady." You weren't quite so sure about the situation you found yourself in, but you shuffled passed him, keeping your distance from Sal, who now seemed perfectly content in pretending neither of you existed.

"So, got a name? I have one. It's Marc. And this is Sal, though you can call him grumpy-gills." Marc made a dumb face, pushing out his lips like a fish as he mocked Sal behind his back. The red-head, who you now knew as Marc, seemed fearless as he played with the fire known as Sal. The dynamic between the two left you almost fearful for Marc's life, but you couldn't help but snicker slightly, causing Marc's attention to turn back to you. "Aha! She speaks!"

Not wanting to pass up the chance to make a new friend, you gathered the courage to respond. "My name is Y/N! I just moved here, so I'm a little out of sorts, and I just got out of Professor Mainsail's class... showed up late on my first day, I was so embarrassed." You decided Marc seemed like the safe bet for venting to. You don't recall seeing him in your last class, but you figured if he was friends with Sal that he might know who you were talking about.

"Ohhh! Nice to meet you, Y/N! Crescentfall is a fun place, I'm sure you'll fit right in. I moved here for school too, though Sal's lived here almost all of his life... and don't worry too much about Mainsail, he's a super nice guy! I've heard he really likes gifts." Marc crossed his arms, looking over to you with an easy-going smile while Sal, who was standing slightly desperate from you two, looked over his shoulder to speak.

"Don't listen to him, he'll get you in trouble. Professor Mainsail only really cares about effort and results. If you put thought into his class he'll get off your back a bit." After that, Sal turned to face the way ahead, moving through the line once more.

You couldn't quite figure out if he was a nice guy with a rough exterior or if he was as spiny as he looked, but you did think that Marc and Sal were an odd pair. That being said, you knew which of the two you would get along with more. "So... Marc, right? What are you here for?"

"Right now? Coffee." You frowned since you thought it was glaringly obvious that you were asking what he was majoring in, but clearly he was being cheeky. Noticing your reaction he laughed. "Kidding. I want to work in IT. Sal over here is studying to become an officer."

This seemed to get a reaction out of Sal as he turned again to flower at Marc. "You really get a kick out of telling people things that don't concern them, don't you?" Marc simply shrugged, immune to the brooding man's tone. You, however, were a bit more curious.

"Officer? Like... police officer? Doesn't the stigma around the job concern you?" You crossed your arms with narrowed eyes, not wanting to back down from such a challenging gaze. Sal took a step towards you so that the distance wasn't quite so awkward before giving s half-hearted shrug with his hands in his pockets. You thought it really didn't make sense. This brooding guy with piercings and a sour attitude, a cop?

"Well, you see, maybe if everyone did their jobs properly it wouldn't be an issue. The reason you just said is exactly why I intend to join. A lot of bad has come from it, sure, but I hope to try and bring some good out if it as well." Sal wasn't looking at you, but you could tell he was taking the question seriously, and the answer was surprisingly wholesome. You opened your mouth to reply but Marc promptly cut you off.

"Wooow, you two should date." Marc stood there, arms crossed against his chest with a critical stare as he watched both you and Sal speak.

You let out a soft guffaw at the prospect. Not only had you just met Sal not even a minute ago, you were fairly certain you had little in common... not to mention he seemed to have an air about him. You hadn't realized until now, but as you looked around, you quickly noticed that most people seemed to give Sal a bit of a wide birth as they walked by. Was he some sort of feral dog?

"Marc, can you stop asking every single person who breathes in my direction if they want to date me?" Sal no longer had his hands in his hoodie pocket. They swung down at his sides with his fingers clenching in and out of fists. You were a little worried about Marc getting decked in the face.

"Come off it- I haven't even asked her yet. Hey, Y/N, wanna date Sal?" You let out a soft laugh at Marc's joking tone, but you felt a bit uncomfortable. It was all fun and games to Marc and you, sure, but you were getting the feeling that Sal was genuinely bothered by it.

"Uhm... no... we just met, I would rather prefer we don't make it awkward." You couldn't help but shift your weight from foot to foot as the atmosphere became somewhat tense. Marc seemed to be having the time of his life, and Sal was annoyingly unreadable. The three of you moved forward again, and you quickly realized that despite being halfway down the line, you couldn't reach the end fast enough.

"Oh, right! Y/N, who are you rooming with? Wait, are you in dorms? I want to see if it's with anyone I know." You were very pleased that Marc at least had the decency to change the topic, and you were more than happy to answer.

"Well, I've only met them once, but I know for sure I'm with this girl called Angie? Lovely dark skin, long dreads... pretty." You made a face and gave him a little nod, and Marc's eyes immediately lit up.

"Oh, I know Angie! She's lots of fun. You two should get along great. We party often. Do you party?" You were a little worried about leaving Sal out of the conversation, but with one glance towards Sal you realized you were probably the only one worried about it. He was already lost in the depths of his phone, texting away to someone with surprising speed.

You looked back over to Marc with a slight smile. "So far she's been great. She had to leave with some guy... Robby, Robert? Something like that, her fiancé came to pick her up to go on a date, so I only got her name. She seems nice... as for parties... eeeeeeh. Never really got the chance to."

Marc bounced on his toes excitedly, his long red bangs flopping up and down. "Oh, fantastic! The next time there's a party you should totally come! They happen fairly often, and you don't really need an invitation— or at least I don't, I usually just show up and people don't question it." You have Marc an awkward smile, your eyebrows rising as the conversation continued. You weren't sure who the worse role model was, Sal or Marc. Regardless of that fact, you were enjoying the company, and the two of them made you feel comfortable. Rather, as long as Sal wasn't staring at you you felt comfortable.

You continued chatting with Marc while Sal silently listened. You talked about who the most well-known people at school are, the best professors, different restaurants around town, and eventually, the conversation turned to night clubs. Marc seemed to be wildly excited about this topic, and you simply smiled and nodded. "So, there's quite a few, but there's his one place quite a few people like called the Velvet Pearl— it's a weird name, but the dancers there are all kind of quirky. Super nice bar, blah blah blah. It's kind of small, though, it can be a pain to get into, but one of the biggest ones is-" You let Marc prattle on, and eventually the three of you split up as you were each called away by different cashiers.

It didn't take long before you were holding a warm cup in your hands, breathing in the scent of your drink. "Aaaaaaah~." You let out a sigh, and not long after you were joined again by Marc, followed by a very disgruntled Sal.

"Next time... you're paying, you jerk." Sal silenced himself with a large gulp of coffee, as if trying to burn away the irritation he felt inside. Marc on the other hand daintily sipped at a small cup in his hands.

"Ohhh, but I do love meself some nice coffee." Marc seemed to ignore Sal, looking to you instead. "What did you get?"

Wanting to be coy, you held your cup closer to your chest and gave Marc a stink eye. "Mind your business." This caused Marc to return the same look, leaving Sal to look between the two of you with a state that probably hasn't seen sleep in days.

"Alright then, keep your secrets..." Marc trailed off, playfully glaring at you. This caused a large sigh from Sal who hung his head back and let out a soft groan.

"If we don't get back to the hall I'll roundhouse kick your ass into Isengard, you filthy hobbitses." Sal grumbled, extending two of his fingers to press into the squishy side of Marc's stomach. "Go. We're going to be late."

You weren't quite sure what was funnier, the fact that Marc pulled a Lord of the Rings quote out of his butt, or the fact that Sal continued with the joke. Slightly worried that this Professor Cruise Guy was going to be like Mainsail, you decided to ask, raising your voice slightly to speak over Marc's screeches of pain as Sal continued to dig his fingers into his side. "What is Cruise like?"

It was Sal who replied this time, but not before taking another drink of coffee, retrieving his fingers from his friend. "Hm. A dork. How do you feel about spontaneously getting called to the front of the class?" Sal stated at you with dead fish eyes, and you were starting to get worried that this school had killed all hope within the poor guy.

""Uh... I'm not particularly fond of it, why...?" You tightened your grip on your cup, answering his question carefully.

"Cuz' he does it a lot, especially if you talk during class. Word of advice: don't let Marc sit next to you, because you will be called up at the drop of a hat." Sal gave Marc one final jab before turning around to start making his way back to the lecture hall. Marc, still wriggling in pain, stumbled right after, leaving you behind with your drink.

You were a little worried about being called on in class, but you shuffled after the pair, not exactly having anyone else to cling to. You could equate it to having a platonic crush of sorts. Marc seemed like a good guy, and Sal... well, you liked Marc, he seemed like fun.

You entered behind them and noticed that they had both split up. Sal went down the steps towards the front while Marc turned at a 90° angle as quickly as he could to get into one of the rear seats. You didn't want to follow Marc as it was the first class and you wanted to be able to see, but you didn't want to sit at the front either. If Professor Cruise was prone to picking people randomly, you felt that sitting at the front might push him to call on you even more. Then again, you didn't really know anyone else here.

You figured it wasn't such a big deal and decided to sit by yourself somewhere in the middle. You found yourself sitting beside a lean looking male with perhaps the most gorgeous head of hair you had ever seen. He had medium-brown curly hair that was done up in a sort of faux hawk. He smiled at you as you sat down, and you could feel a conversation starter brewing.

"Hey, first year too?" You smile and nod, hoping that this guy was the same. "Oooooh, good stuff. I'm an Literature major, so I'll be seeing a lot of these sorts of classes. What are you here for?"

"General Studies, I'm not quite sure what I want to do yet, so I figured I'd see more of the world and figure that out on the way. My name is Y/N, by the way." You extended a hand, worried that it might be too formal, but the guy took it with a smile, shaking it in return.

"Connie! It's nice to meet another first year here, from what I understand quite a few of the people in this class this year are actually people from other majors who hadn't completed it yet, so they've already been here for a while. It's a little intimidating, but this is my passion, so..." you gave an internal sigh of relief, so far, save for a Professor and a certain drowned rat of a student seemed to be very friendly, and you found you had an easy time keeping the conversation going.

You and Connie spent several minutes chatting away. He told you about his family and his hobbies, and you found out about his part-time job in the library tutoring students in English. "Yeaaah, there's a few students who have signed up to be tutors. There's someone who does math and law— which, if you ask me, boorrring. They also apparently do English as well, but I'm hoping they'll be too busy with Law students to snag any of the English ones. After all, I've heard Professor Mainsail can be kind of harsh." You shrunk a little at the minion of Mainsail, and nodded in confirmation to Connie's words.

It wasn't until you looked at your phone to check the time that you realized the minute hand was already a quarter passed the 12. Was the professor running late?

Contrary to the actual time, the doors opened in time with your thought and in walked a bald man in dark blue dress pants and a dress shirt. Upon closer inspection you noticed that he had a bright pink bow clipped to his breast pocket. It looked to be made out of those beads that you melt together with an iron. It was kind of cute, though you worried about the sanity of this man.

"Good morning everyone! I am Professor Cruise. Apologies for being late, I got a little lost on my adventure to the coffee shop." You blinked in silence. Wasn't the coffee shop just outside the doors? You turned to Connie to see if you were the only one to find issue with this, only to see that he was already taking notes. On what, you weren't sure.

"Today a little bird told me that Professor Mainsail started his class off with a fun little icebreaker, so I wanted to start off this class with something even better! Social torture!"

Your jaw went slack. You weren't entirely sure what that meant, but it didn't sound entirely legal. As you looked around, you could already see some students getting up to leave, clearly thinking their time would be better spent elsewhere.

Cruise continued, now pacing on the stage before the class. "Everyone knows Romeo and Juliet, yes? You should, every damn high school English class shoves it down your throats." Cruise didn't wait for an answer before speeding on ahead. "Here's what we're going to do: everyone will get the chance to throw someone under the bus. That person will come up here and I'll give them a task. Then, that person gets the option to pick whoever they want to pair up with for the said task. Make sense? Good."

You were fairly certain that the upcoming situation was an actual form of torture, so you shrunk your head down. You were doing your best not to be seen when a familiar voice shouted from the back. "The one in the black hoodie up front! Pick him! The black hoodie!"

You looked over your shoulder to see Marc standing in the back with both arms in the air, furiously pointing all the way to the front. Following his line of sight, you realized he was doing his darnedest to get Sal up on stage.

Connie stirred beside you, and you looked over to see him cupping his hands around his mouth, shouting the same thing Marc was. Not wanting to feel left out, you shouted as well. "Yeah! Get the guy in the hoodie up there!" You laughed along with Connie, as you were almost fairly certain that Sal would be picking Marc to join him in retaliation.

"Well would you look at that, seems like your friends love you, buddy. Get on up here." You could almost feel the energy that radiated off from Sal as he stood up, turning back to his chair to take off his hoodie. You weren't sure what you were expecting, but underneath was a plain black t-shirt that stood out well against his gray sweatpants. To sum it up, the guy just seemed to dress comfy.

You sensed movement beside you as Connie started to ease his way down into a crouched position in between the rows of seats, hiding. You thought it was unnecessary, as you were one hundred percent certain Sal would be picking Marc. You turned around, prepared to see the shit/eating grin wiped off Marc's face... only to see a wisp of red hair disappear between the two heavy metal doors as the red-head in question escaped the hall.

Huh? Did... did Marc just leave? You peaked your head out further to see, and that's when you heard a firm voice come from the stage. "Welcome to my life, Y/N. he played us both, get down here and suffer in the situation you helped cause." You turned your head around to see Sal standing by Cruise at the front with his hands on his hips, staring directly at you.

The panic set in, and you were barely aware you were moving as your feet carried you to the front of the class. Your only solace was imagining all the scenarios in which Marc ran face first into a wall out of karma. Both Cruise and Sal were watching you as you made your way down the steps, and eventually you found yourself before them. "Alright kids, have fun." Cruise lifted his hands to pat the two of you on the shoulders, escaping back to his desk.

You stated at Sal, clenching and unclenching your hands as you felt tons of eyes burning into your skin. Sal didn't seem particularly bothered. In fact, he moved even closer to you and muttered so those in the front row couldn't hear. "In case it wasn't clear, he wants us to start re-enacting a scene as best we can from Romeo and Juliet. Know the balcony scene?"

Of course! It was possibly the most famous scene from Romeo and Juliet... only you hadn't memorized it. In fact, the only snippets of the play you could remember was when Juliet stabbed herself, and even then, you were always forced to play Romeo when the class acted it out.

"Uh... no, not really. I only know a little bit, sorry..." You shrugged your shoulders, to which Sal sighed, swiping a hand through his hair to comb it back.

"Alright, that's fine, we'll figure it out. If I have to I'll do both parts, he won't let us leave the stage until we do something." Sal moved towards his seat again, returning to the stage with his hoodie in hand. "Do what you can."

You looked at Sal with an odd expression, something mixed between fear and amusement as he stood at the forefront of the raised platform, with an expression that could only be described as "kill me".

"He jests at scars that never felt a wound." Sal began almost immediately, causing the entire hall that had been ripe with chatter to fall silent immediately. His voice stretched to the back of the room, and yet he wasn't yelling, he just had a way of projecting his voice... and yet somehow you couldn't stop the second-hand embarrassment from slipping through. You were just about to hide your cheeks when Sal suddenly turned towards you.

"But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?" You had both hands gently cupping your cheeks out of embarrassment when he turned to you, speaking as if you were truly Juliet. You were mildly horrified. Was Sal secretly a Shakespeare geek? Why did he know the lines perfectly so far? You were interested to see how far he had memorized, so you just smiled to yourself, trying to hide the heat that was rising in your face, averting your gaze from the crowd.

"It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief, that thou her maid art far more fair than she: be not her maid, since she is envious; her vestal livery is but sick and green and none but fools do wear it; cast it off."

Oooookay, you were both mildly disturbed and impressed at the same time, and just when you thought he was going to leave it at that, he kept going, only this time, he seemed stare at you with a look that could only mean one thing: revenge.

"It is my lady, O, it is my love!  
O, that she knew she were!  
She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that?  
Her eye discourses; I will answer it.  
I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:  
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,  
Having some business, do entreat her eyes  
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.  
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?  
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,  
As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven  
Would through the airy region stream so bright  
That birds would sing and think it were not night.  
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!  
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,  
That I might touch that cheek!"

Sal dramatically touched his own cheek, staring at you with a fake longing as you stood there, mouth gaping like a fish. It was only then that you realized you had a line. "Uh— A-ay me!"

"She speaks:  
O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art  
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head  
As is a winged messenger of heaven  
Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes  
Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him  
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds  
And sails upon the bosom of the air." Sal was having way too much fun with this, you could tell. You weren't sure if he just genuinely didn't care, or if he was on an ego trip for being able to show off a hidden talent. You were pretty sure it was the latter. Just before you were able to say your next few lines, Sal swung the sweater over his hair, draping it on his head dramatically before continuing in a shrill voice.

"O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?  
Deny thy father and refuse thy name;  
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,  
And I'll no longer be a Capulet." Sal pressed the back of his hand against his head, leaning himself back to act like a stereotypical damsel in distress. In doing so, his sweater slipped off his head and he flailed in an attempt to catch his 'wig' before it fell off completely, resulting in many giggles from the crowd.

As you stood there with a hand sticking your own laughter, Professor Cruise gave a couple singular claps before shooting both you and Sal back to your seats. "Alright you punks, very funny. I'm stopping you here before Sal keeps us here to recite the whole play." You watched as Sal turned around just before reaching his seat, looking directly at you. You decided to give him a smile, figuring the experience was kind of fun in a horrific way... only for your smile to earn a stick out tongue in reply.

You scoffed. Cheeky bastard. That's when you noticed something in the brief moment his tongue was out. Was that a piercing? On his tongue? Was the guy half metal? You rolled your eyes at him and continued to your seat. You kind of figured you deserved that.

After sitting down, the lesson surprisingly continued like normal. No more weird antics, and you actually managed to successfully refresh your brain from high school English classes, much to your surprise. You felt good about the lesson, all in all, but you knew you'd have to get Marc back eventually.


End file.
